Years
by Shades of Ink
Summary: ...I waited for the world to shift, but when nothing happened, I supposed lives changed slowly..." A certain Evans girl deals with the birth of her sister. One shot.


Years  
  
~~  
  
I was a small girl then - no more than ten, but still small. I hadn't grown an inch in years, but the years continued their predictable and cruel rhythm.  
  
Mum and Dad hadn't had anyone after me. I was an only child, had always been an only child. It was a bittersweet upbringing - my parents loving me, and only me. There were times when the loneliness just didn't compensate.  
  
But today would change things.  
  
I sat alone today, like always. But the walls I was staring at were blank and clean; free of pictures and cluttered memories my parents were fond of.  
  
I sat in a hospital... one I knew I'd never sat in before.  
  
I took pride in the fact that I'd never needed a hospital visit in my life. I kept myself too clean to get sick, and strayed away from girls who climbed trees. They tended to be a bad influence, and always ended up injuring themselves.  
  
A strange sight was passing in the hall, and I lowered my head. A woman had wedged a pillow in her ear, and the pillow seemed to be growing. Several nurses, or whatever they called themselves, were helping her along the corridor, for feathers were spilling out of her nose.  
  
Disgusted, frightened, and shocked, I warily followed the frantic group with my eyes.  
  
I'd never liked fairy tales much. None of them had ever followed logic. They were ignorantly silly and difficult to believe. Some of my friends had told me they always wanted to be fairy princesses, or something equally disgusting. They wanted to believe in magic... it was a wonderfully perfect idea they had to follow.  
  
And here I sat, taking it all in. I shook my head. How could my parents just expect me to accept this as truth?  
  
A warlock passed, levitating his papers in front of him when an intercepting owl collided with him.  
  
It was absurd. Utterly illogical and absurd.  
  
Dad came out, his face flushed and excited. "It's a girl, Petunia, come and see!"  
  
Wearily, I followed. I'd lived in a normal home, with normal parents, and normal grandparents. I'd been born in a normal hospital...  
  
- the door to the room closed on its own accord -  
  
...why should this new baby be any different?  
  
So far, I wasn't liking this hospital, but I concluded that keeping quiet for the time being would be best. This was a happy moment.  
  
Mum was a pale figure, exhausted from the labor and constant strain. Her ginger hair was plastered to her wet forehead, but her eyes were filled with triumph and adoration.  
  
My sister lay in her arms.  
  
Dad tentatively approached her side, unsure if the baby was asleep or not. She must have been, for she didn't stir. Mum smiled and started humming.  
  
It must have been maternal bliss, I supposed, for she never sang. Perhaps attaching lyrics would have broken the gentle stillness of the moment, or maybe the song had no words. Either way, it must have been maternal bliss.  
  
For me, however, it was candidly awkward.  
  
I stood in the background, watching my parents' attention turned elsewhere, listening to my mother's singing and the muffled hustle and bustle of the magical hospital beyond the closed door.  
  
I leaned my weight against the wall - sure and steady. Smiling wistfully at the scene, I felt the nagging question refuse to rest.  
  
"Dad?" I asked suddenly, but quietly.  
  
He turned around, that blank look of sheer wonder still plastered on his face. A gentle smile was his response.  
  
I took a step forward, leaving my trusted wall. "Why did we come here?" I finally asked, my voice hushed so Mum wouldn't hear my complaint.  
  
But Dad didn't see it as a complaint. He didn't see it as anything... his brow furrowed in confusion. "This is a hospital, dear," he answered slowly.  
  
"I know, Dad," I said quickly. Did he think I was daft, or something?  
  
"But why this one? We're normal, aren't we?"  
  
Normal. Dad's smile faltered slightly. It returned instantaneously, but the lingering awe from the previous moment had drifted away. Behind his eyes, he seemed troubled.  
  
"Yes, dear, we are. But... well, your ancestors were something mo - more than we are..."  
  
I hastily closed my open mouth. More than us? MORE than what we are? What exactly were we?  
  
"I understand that, Dad," I said. "But haven't we grown away from all that?"  
  
Dad's face was impassive - like a stone. There was no getting through to him. "Yes, dear, we have."  
  
"Then why - ?"  
  
"Petunia..." he sighed. I was surprised he was using my name. He mostly called me pet names, mainly dear, for he wasn't too fond of my mother's choice. To be quite frank, neither was I. Despite the fact that I loved flowers, I'd always found the name obnoxiously unnatural.  
  
"You have to under - see, your sister..."  
  
I raised my eyebrows, a sign showing that I knew he was evading the subject.  
  
"We - your mother and I, that is - we've been seeing a, er, wizard doctor," - I rolled my eyes - "and he told us, well, there could be a chance of a change in our, er, family line..."  
  
"Dad?"  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"We're having a witch?"  
  
Mum had stopped humming a while ago, but now the room was especially silent. I hoped that meant she'd fallen asleep.  
  
"It's too early to tell anything, Petunia," - that accursed name again - "so we'll raise her as we raised you." A hopeful look engulfed his features. "It'll be just as normal, alright?"  
  
Normal. There it was again. It rang in my ears, a mocking term. I was normal... and what in the world was wrong with that?  
  
"Yes, father." Formality was my sign of rebellion.  
  
Father returned to my mother's side, but noticing her closed eyes, he resorted to a chair by the window.  
  
The window. I gave it a scrutinizing look. It showed a bright, shining day, with lazy clouds in a blazing sky of soft blue. Inside I laughed - I knew for a fact it was raining outside.  
  
I turned my gaze to my mother. No longer Mum, no longer mine. She was mother, for now it was a shared title between my sister and I.  
  
Her eyes were closed to show she was sleeping, but I caught her eyes flutter slightly. She couldn't sleep, I could tell, but she wanted to.  
  
Suddenly forgetting to pick up my feet, I walked to her side. I sat myself on a chair beside the bed, and let my head rest on my mother's shoulder.  
  
Her shoulder had always fitted me perfectly.  
  
I credited my sister with a quick glance - that innocent bundle. Yawning, I closed my eyes, shutting the world out of my view.  
  
My life had changed that day. Even looking back, I knew it had been obvious at the time. Resting on my mother's spare shoulder, I waited for the world to shift, but when nothing happened, I supposed lives changed slowly -  
  
- as the years continued their cruel and predictable rhythm...  
  
~~  
  
AN: Apparently based on the theory that Lily's parents were children or grandchildren of squibs. I always though it was suspicious that they were described as "proud" when Lily got her letter, so... reviews? 


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